Title: Caught in China
Word count: About 1,181
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and I write completely for fun and not for profit!
Beta: NOPE! So let me know if you see any big things! Or small for that matter! JUST LET ME KNOW!
Summary: What better to do while being held capive in China than to anger the men holding you hostage? Maybe making a run for it?
Author Note: This is not my first fanfiction, though it is a new account and definatly my first Sherlock Holmes story. I am trying to convince a friend of mine to give Fan Fiction a try so I gave her a challange... if she wrote somthing, then so would it. The rules were simple. It had to have Holmes, Watson and the Great Wall of China.
So reivew please!
The detective chewed on the end of his pipe, eyeing up the screeching Chinese man, before shifting amber eyes to Watson. The good doctor was at his side, shackles around his wrists, and frown seemed permanently etched on his face. Blue eyes met brown and Holmes smirked, "How are you enjoying China, old boy?" he called, gripping the wooden tip of his pipe between his teeth.
"Splendid," The doctor replied, the slight crinkle in the nose, indicated otherwise. "Though I was hoping to get a better look at the Great Wall." Watson shifted slightly in the dirt shifting more weight off his injured knee. The tip of Watson's cane shot out from behind the two and poked its rightful owner in the back as a warning. The doctor froze almost instantly, not wanting to give their captors any need to become violent.
There was a flash in Holmes eyes, before it was barred back down. Holmes nodded instead, in understanding and sympathy, taking a glace first at the forest to his right then the towering stone wall at his left. "As was I," he admitted, "maybe one of these men would be willing to give us a tour." He added thoughtfully.
The detective glanced up to the two large men flanking him and Watson then to the small Chinese man standing a few feet away. The man had finally stopped yelling and now stood drawing ragged breaths in through his mouth. His stare was of pure hatred and face was bright red from recent yelling. "Are you quite done?" Holmes asked raising a single eyebrow in question, and pulling his pipe from his mouth and polished it on the front of his coat.
The man only seemed to anger more, and flung a pointed finger at the two British men and cried something into the air. The two slabs of meat, moved forward each taking a man by elbow and pulling them out off the ground.
"Thank you." Sherlock said, smiling at the man on his elbow. "I am sure Watson's leg was beginning to pester him. " The detective sent a concerned look to the doctor, only to receive a glare in response. "Come now Watson, that can't have been good for you knee." Holmes insisted.
A string of Chinese erupted on once again from the duo's host, the screeching echoing through the forest. Birds took off from the trees, woodland creatures scampered away and Holmes continued to give Watson his full attention. Again, the man finally stopped screaming into the sky and slumped slightly with exestuation.
"Are you quite done?" The detective asked, slipping pipe into the chest pocket of his coat. "We have places to be."
"You not leave." The man huffed, catching both British men by surprise. "You die."
"I must apologies, because Watson and I seem to have other plans." The detective stated, "And death just does not have anything to do with it. Though it you're anything like Watson, you may not be able to tell if a man is dead or not."
"Holmes," Watson growled, "That happened once, and you and I Both know Blackwood was drugged to have no pulse."
Sherlock waved his hands through the air, shackles shacking against each other. "Maybe next time you will just listen to me and dissect his brain."
"I don't think now is the time to have this argument Holmes." Watson sighed, as if remembering they were surrounded by three men fully intent on killing them.
"Quite right, old boy." Sherlock nodded, "Conversation for another time. Now if you would just release us." The detective said, holding up his wrists for the captors to see. "We will be going."
"You will die." The Chinese man spat, forcing out every word with as much venom as humanly possible.
"So you have said." Holmes sighed, shifting his gaze towards the doctor again. "Some people just don't understand the use of the word no."
"You're one of them, old Cock." Watson chuckled. The men made eye contact and the message was passed in a flash.
"Enough!" Screaked the captive leader, "Die now!" As if someone flipped a switch Holmes and Watson jumped to action. A swift left hook and a kick knocked the small man to the ground. With a little more effort the muscles of the group were thrown off their feet.
With Watson's cane in hand, Holmes led the way, fleeing alone the edge of the Great Wall of China. The two men dashed up the first flight of stairs, with captor's right on the heels. They dashed into the crowd of both locals and tourists that flocked the Wall. The space grew between duo and their attended killers; and Holmes and Watson ducked behind the entrance of another stair case, ducking behind the wall. Sherlock peeked his head out just in time to watch the three men sprint past and disappear down the walk.
"We're good Old Boy," Holmes announced, turning a smiling face to his assistant, and patting him lightly on the arm. "Here is your cane." He added, holding out the walking aid for the man to take.
Watson huffed for air, back resting against the stone wall. The doctor let out mix of a grown and growl, shifted his unamused gaze to the detective. . "Next time you want to go to china leave me out of it." He muttered, snatching the cane from Holmes hand.
"Nonsense, Watson." Holmes said, waving his hand in the air as if he could wave away the comment. "Who else would I bring?"
Sherlock Holmes is a brilliant man; pompous, rude, irritating, and self-involved, but brilliant none the less. But his abilities lacked in the way of the Chinese dialect. His vocab was small and most words were not appropriate for the situation.